We’re supposed to be the voice of the future,
But we sit with bleeding wounds
Depression eating at our mind
Then left empty with insecurities.
Tears wanting to flow out,
“I’m fine.”
How can we change the worlds
When we can’t even accept our own scars?
Nov 25, 2020
Nov 25, 2020 at 3:06 AM UTC
We’re supposed to be the voice of the future,
But we sit with bleeding wounds
Depression eating at our mind
Then left empty with insecurities.
Tears wanting to flow out,
“I’m fine.”
How can we change the worlds
When we can’t even accept our own scars?
Request permission to use this poem